Vive La France
by awkwardambition
Summary: What if General Lamarque had a daughter? Enjolras/OC *Rewrite* Also published in the Book section.
1. Chapter One

Chapter One

1823

Jean Maximilien Lamarque was a man who spent most of his life reflecting upon his past decisions. Every choice, whether it led to a good or bad solution or situation, was analyzed to death. Every single memorable mistake was torn apart, bit by bit, so that he would have an understanding on why it had been erroneous. To those who knew him personally - and there were few, as he was a secretive man - it was a habit of his they were rather fond of.

To the general public, he was regarded as a terribly wealthy man who never hesitated to press a spare franc into the dirtied palm of a street urchin on his way from church. Despite his family's prestigious position in the bourgeoisie community, he would oftentimes be found conversing with those well below his class. It was strange behaviour for a man of such grandiose fortune, but nobody was bold enough to question his motives.

Lamarque did not flaunt his wealth either. Instead of living in a pretentious estate with polished marble flooring with a battalion of formally dressed wait staff, he resided in a cozy hovel a good walking distance between his favorite book shop and his favorite patisserie. His furniture did not boast any sort of wealth as much as they did of jutting nails and rough textures.

He was also notable for taking nightly walks. No one dared rob him, even as he walked past the most dangerous alleys of France, as he was widely regarded as "the people's man" and had saved many a thief from starvation by his charitable habits. He unwillingly possessed a kind of authoritative power that had even the dirtiest of street scum bowing to him as he walked past.

He had no wife nor a child waiting for him in his hovel, as he had no interest in obtaining either in his earlier years. At the age of fifty-two, however, he regretted that decision immensely. He longed for a child of his own whose love for him would be unconditional, whom he could protect and pass on his burdening fortune when he himself passed. But it seemed too late.

So, instead of spending his nights in front of a fire with a wife and a child by his side, he paced around the streets near his home. A street gamine would approach him and he would send them away with some pocket change, but he would remain deep within his mind, analyzing every mistake he'd ever made. Every time he remembered how he'd turned down a woman who had offered him a chance at the family he had once thought he would never need, he'd shake his head at himself and mutter, "You fool."

The people's man talked to himself quite a bit out of loneliness. But the general public didn't know that. They assumed that he was planning another eloquent speech to deliver to the public.

Little they know.

On the eve of Christmas, Lamarque was in the midst of his evening walk when a cry of pain alerted him. He stormed into the alley where it had come from and discovered the cause of the wail. A thin young woman clutched her side painfully as he approached. She whimpered painfully as an involuntary shiver ran up her spine. From afar, Lamarque could see her quaking shoulders and hear her chattering teeth. Her clothes barely covered the essentials, and she was far too exposed to the biting wintry air to be at optimal health. He also noted with dismay that she looked to be no older than thirty.

"Good gracious, Madame," he said cordially, slowly pulling his coat off of his shoulders. "What has happened to you?"

The woman finally looked up at him. Her large green eyes were overflowing with tears. He watched her gaunt face as she prodded a few spaces in her mouth where teeth were missing before responding croakily.

"M-Monsieur, I have a child waiting for me. She sorely needs me to - to live."

Lamarque stepped closer to her and draped his coat around her shaking shoulders. His sleeved arm brushed temporarily against her choppily cut black hair. She eyed the coat on her shoulder with a mixture of confusion and contempt before continuing.

"The money I've been earning is for her, b-but I've been robbed, and without that money she will d-die." She sobbed. "And I will not make it through this evening either!"

Lamarque knelt down beside her and looked her in the eye. "Where is your child, Madame?"

She wiped her tears away with a dirtied finger. "With an innkeeper in Montfermeil. The man's name's T-Thenardier."

Lamarque nodded as he slid one arm underneath her knees. The other one went behind the small of her back. She whimpered painfully, but he ignored it. With slight difficulty, he got up onto his feet and lifted her. He found that she was lighter than a feather. He began to carry her out of the alley. The moonlight hit her as soon as they stepped out of the shadows, placing a spotlight upon the bleeding gash in her side.

"What happened to you, Madame?" he asked worriedly as he headed for the hospital. "Who are you?"

The woman groaned in pain. "My name is Liesel Bellamy." She inhaled sharply and added, "I infuriated a man I was hoping to have as a customer. He robbed me of my savings."

The realization of the frightful situation dawned on him. "Madame, as soon as you are well, you will never resort to that type of work again," he vowed. "I will take you and your child in. Neither of you will want for anything ever again. I will send for your child immediately to prove this."

The woman remarked then, in an airy voice that worried Lamarque greatly, "Her name is Annemarie. She's nine. Her father abandoned us soon after she was born."

"Shh," he said soothingly. "As soon as you are under the care of a doctor, I will personally retrieve your Annemarie."

* * *

The Thenardier inn was more decrepit than Lamarque had expected. The sign that bore its name was on the verge of falling onto an unlucky passerby, the windows were cracked, and it reeked something terrible. The moment he'd walked in, he'd been accosted by a strange woman who seemed hell-bent on stealing his sachet of coins.

The innkeeper, Thenardier, was an obvious con artist. Lamarque had met quite a few of them before, when he was a more naive lad in Versailles, but he had smartened since then. Upon asking of Annemarie's whereabouts, Thenardier's hospitable smile dissipated almost immediately. In its place was a lecherous grin.

"Ah, I see you've spotted little 'Marie during one of her errands! Seems like a hard worker, she does, but she's nothing more than a lazy-"

Lamarque was not interested in hearing Thenardier's spiel. He could tell that Thenardier would not easily give up Annemarie, thus he quickly pulled out a few bills from his purse and held it in front of Thenardier's face, silencing him.

"Are we agreed?" he asked coldly. "Fifteen hundred for Annemarie."

Thenardier's eyes widened at the sight of the papers. "Yes, yes, Monsieur, we have a deal." Grabbing the bills, he added gruffly, "The little brat's in the wood behind the inn."

* * *

Lamarque did not have to walk far to find her. Halfway into the wood, he discovered a waifish young girl with matted black hair near a poorly dug well. She clutched a wooden bucket of water close to her as though it would protect her. As he came closer, he saw that she was dressed in rags and her skin was streaked with soot. Clearly she had not been in proper living conditions.

Upon noticing him, Annemarie set down the bucket and ran to hide behind the thick trunk of a nearby tree.

"Do not be afraid of me," he called out to her. "I have come for you in place of your mother."

"Maman?" Annemarie said cautiously, stepping shyly from behind the tree. "What about Maman?" Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates. She could not remember her mother, but she knew that she existed somewhere out there.

Lamarque closed his eyes tightly. He remembered the gasp that had emitted from Liesel, the way that she had gone limp in his arms, the curt shake of the head from the nurse in the hospital.

"Your mother is with God, dear Annemarie." He heard her cry out in shock and continued with a heavy heart. "Before she departed, she sent for me to save you. From now on, you will live in my protection."

Annemarie stepped closer to him. The moonlight slipped through the spindly branches of the trees surrounding the pair and shone on her. He could see her thick eyebrows and red (albeit chapped to the point of bleeding) lips, both inherited from her mother. She extended a hand to him after a pause.

"Will you be like a papa to me?" she asked quietly.

He knelt down, ignoring the pail of water that he subsequently knocked over. "Yes, Annemarie." He took her hand and smiled. "I will be father _and_ mother to you."

With that, Annemarie and Lamarque were off. In the fiacre on the ride back to his home, she rested her head on his lap. No sooner had her dirty locks brushed against his trousers did he feel a sense of protectiveness over the young girl. He brushed her hair away from her face as she slept peacefully for the first time in years.

* * *

Several weeks passed. In no time at all, it became clear to Lamarque that his humble abode was not going to be enough for his new daughter. Annemarie expressed often that she appreciated her new life with him, but he sensed that he wasn't giving her enough. After some deliberation and searching, he purchased a larger home in Saint Michele with a spacious backyard in which she could play and garden in. She was thrilled by the news, which only confirmed his earlier suspicions.

While he waited for the house to be furnished, he bought her trinkets and clothing that he found to be appropriate for her. Annemarie was always delighted by his purchases, as she had not once been spoiled in her life. She detested the discolored rags she had worn day in and day out while under the Thenardiers' "care", and had only a rag doll that the Thenardiers' eldest daughter had grudgingly given her during her first night in the inn. She was pleased to see the rags go.

Promptly after the estate on fifty-five rue Plumet was furnished, they moved in. Annemarie was delighted by their new home, especially because the garden housed dozens of butterflies in various colors. She adored the outdoors, but Lamarque feared that she, like her late mother, would be tainted by the sinful ways of the world, and thus kept her away from the public. He ventured out alone for groceries and business only when she was safe and asleep in their gated home, and returned as quickly as possible.

One day, she asked him if she could accompany him to the town square. Lamarque was already dressed and prepared for the unpredictable February weather, and was slightly put out by her delaying him.

"Absolutely not, Annemarie," he responded sternly. "It is dangerous out there, and you are too young."

"When will I get to go with you?" she asked insistently.

Lamarque thought for a moment. "When, pray tell, is your next birthday?" he said.

Annemarie thought for a moment. "Maman and I used to celebrate it on the last day of May."

"Then you may come with me on the last day of May," Lamarque promised, albeit grudgingly. "But for now, it is time for your nap."


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

1824

The last day of May came too quickly for Lamarque's liking. However, a promise was a promise, and he found himself awake earlier than usual that day planning out their activities. They would have a special dinner at home, complete with a birthday cake as colorful as the butterflies she chased in the garden, but he knew that she would want to explore the town square first. He decided that they would have lunch in the usual café that he stopped to eat at during his grocery shopping.

But first, he had to pick up her birthday present. He popped his head quickly into her room to check if she was still sleeping before sneaking out to retrieve her special gift.

* * *

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Annemarie squealed as the small dog Lamarque had carried into her room jumped onto her bed and licked her face. "I shall call her Evie." She clutched the puppy to her chest as though she would never let it go.

"You are welcome, Annemarie," Lamarque said warmly. "But you must remember to take care of Evie. She is a great responsibility. You must bring her out to the far side of the garden often to relieve herself, and you must make sure that you dispose of her droppings with haste."

"Yes, Papa." Annemarie said, scratching Evie behind her floppy ears. "May we leave now?"

Lamarque was silently hoping that she had forgotten about her request. He sighed and said, "Once you are dressed and have eaten your special birthday breakfast, we will go."

Annemarie had never dressed and eaten so quickly in her life.

* * *

Annemarie latched onto her father's hand as they walked out of their house. Right away, the children playing games on the other side of the street amused her, but she dutifully kept to her father's side. She ducked her head low so that her hair would flow around her face and hide it. Evie trotted obediently beside them, her tail wagging with each step.

As they entered the town square, Annemarie was instantly entranced. Shop windows displayed pretty dresses and coats, and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted around, making her stomach rumble. She watched in wonder as her father pressed a few coins to a man sitting with his back against a wall, and smiled warmly at the man as they walked past.

They passed by a flower stand. Annemarie was amazed by the beautiful pink flowers and asked if she could have one. Before she could say another word, Lamarque purchased a small bouquet of them from the vendor and handed them over with a flourish.

When Lamarque finally ushered them into a small café for lunch, Annemarie caught sight of a group of young boys a few years older than she was. They were sitting on the wooden steps leading to the second floor of the shop and were all talking and laughing loudly. Two boys sitting in the middle of the throng looked away from their laughing red-haired friend and caught a glimpse of her. She smiled shyly and lowered her gaze again to her feet. Evie nipped at the toes of Annemarie's shiny new shoes and panted.

"Here you are." Lamarque handed her a sandwich and grinned. "Where shall we sit to enjoy our lunch?"

Annemarie pointed towards an empty table near the door. No sooner had they sat down did Evie decide to take interest in the group of boys. Although Annemarie called her back, Evie trotted towards them and nipped at the toes of a dark-haired boy's shoes. The dark-haired boy laughed and scratched between her ears.

"What's her name?" he called out to Annemarie, who blushed under recognition by an older boy.

Lamarque lowered the sandwich he had halfway to his mouth and sighed. "This is what I was afraid of," he murmured to himself. Before he could stop it from happening, the conversation unfolded before his eyes.

"Evie," Annemarie replied proudly, unaware of her father's worry.

The boy smiled and continued to pet Evie. A few of the other boys joined in, laughing when the puppy licked their hands or sniffed their shoes.

Finally, the dark-haired boy walked the puppy back to the Lamarques' table. Evie wandered back to Annemarie's feet and playfully sniffed the toes of her shoes. She reached down and pulled Evie onto her lap.

The dark-haired boy wiped his hand on his trousers and smiled at Annemarie. "My name's Rene. Rene Grantaire."

"I'm called Annemarie," she said innocently. "It's my birthday today."

Rene smiled. "Well, happy birthday then. How old are you now?"

"Ten." She beamed at his greeting. "How old are you?"

Lamarque couldn't bear it any longer and stood abruptly, startling the boy. "We'd better be moving on," he said sternly, cutting off Rene's response. He grasped Annemarie's hand and hurried her away, doing his best to ignore the boys on the stairs.

* * *

"How I wish for her to remain this childlike and innocent," he murmured as he watched her play with Evie in the garden later that day.

But he had already gotten a frightful vision of her future, thanks to those boys near the café. Soon enough Annemarie's natural beauty will capture the interest of many a young man, and then what? He had not known the girl for long enough. He was not ready to give her away.

That night, Annemarie had Evie sit next to her at the dinner table despite her father's wishes. When the cake was presented, she had to physically restrain Evie from jumping onto the table to devour it.

"Thank you so much, Papa!" she exclaimed, running over to his side of the table with the intent of bearing a hug to him. "This has been the best birthday ever!"

"Happy tenth birthday, my darling daughter," he said happily, crouching down towards her. "May you forever be so sweet and loving."

As her small arms encircled his waist, he closed his eyes tightly and wished for a way to keep her the way she was at that moment.

* * *

Later that evening, after Annemarie was tucked warmly into bed, Lamarque was trying to train Evie to relieve herself at a certain spot in the backyard. It was a fruitless effort, but his thoughts were beginning to upset him and he needed something to distract him from them.

What if Annemarie were corrupted? Those boys in the café _seemed_ harmless enough, but he really didn't know them. What if they were intending on robbing or harming her? What if there was somebody out in Paris who had seen her that day and had decided to take her for their own? The words "kidnapping", "assault", and "ransom" came up frequently in his worries.

He was startled out of his thoughts when a young boy's voice cried out, "Annemarie!" It was coming from the iron-wrought gates beyond the low branches of a tree. He approached the gates cautiously, prepared to fight to save his daughter.

Instead, the peculiar-looking dark-haired boy from earlier that day stood there, his hands tucked into his pockets. A paper bag sat at his feet.

"Hello, Monsieur," the boy said politely. "May I please speak to Annemarie?"

"It's late," Lamarque said shortly, obviously annoyed.

"My name's Rene Grantaire, sir. My father knows you quite well, or so he says." He chewed on his lower lip. "Could I please see her?" He nudged the paper bag with his foot. "It's important."

Lamarque sighed. A strange boy had appeared in the night with the intent of speaking to his daughter. What nerve he had! He wished to speak very curtly to him, to forbid him from ever thinking about Annemarie again, and was just about to tell the boy off when a sleepy voice from behind him called out.

"Rene!" Annemarie rushed forward, her long nightgown billowing behind her. "What are you doing here?"

Rene Grantaire smiled. "It's your birthday, Annemarie. My friends and I didn't forget." He picked up the bag and slid it in between the bars. Lamarque thought of intercepting it, but Annemarie grabbed it before he could do anything.

Without further ado, she plunged her hand inside without thinking. Lamarque winced. What were the contents of that bag? Hundreds of needles to prick her fingers? A gun? Something poisonous? He prepared himself to lunge and tear the bag away from her when Annemarie let out a gasp of delight and removed her hand.

Resting on her palm was a red, white, and blue cockade. She giggled and pinned it to the front of her nightgown before digging her hand into the bag again. Colorful paper flowers, a pink hairpin, a thin sheet of handwritten couplets, and four pieces of tightly wrapped candies completed the gift.

"Wow!" She beamed at Rene. "Thank you!" She reached her hand through the gates to clasp his, and Lamarque disgustedly noted the blush on the young boy's cheeks.

"It wasn't all my doing," Rene admitted. "My friends Marius, Julien, Jehan, and Etienne helped me."

"That's nice, but it is late, Rene." Lamarque forced himself between the two children. "Now, you must go."

"Goodbye, Rene," she said happily, looking around her father to see the boy she was addressing. "Tell your friends that I love their gifts."

Rene nodded and turned away.

"May I see him and his friends tomorrow?" Annemarie asked hopefully once the boy had departed.

Lamarque eyed Rene's retreating back. For someone proclaimed as "the people's man", he wasn't in a particularly charitable mood. "No," he said finally. "You will not."

* * *

Three days later, in the middle of the night, Lamarque woke with a start. The floorboards had creaked too loudly to be normal and Evie was barking loudly in the garden. He stood up and went to investigate immediately.

To his dismay, a group of gangly boys had snuck into the house, skulking about and pocketing expensive trinkets. Lamarque was quick to apprehend a few of them before running into Annemarie's room to protect her. He got there just before one of the robbers came from another room and tried to approach her sleeping figure.

"Get away from my daughter," he roared, holding up a poker from the fireplace to ward them away. The boys scrambled into the garden and over the gate, where they were snagged by a few inspectors who had heard Lamarque yelling in the dead of night.

"Are you all right, my dear?" Lamarque asked his shaken daughter once the boys were gone.

Annemarie balanced her head on his shoulder. "I thought the people loved you, Papa."

Lamarque sighed. "Not all of them do." He sucked in a breath. "I suppose I can't have you out anymore. It's too dangerous."

Annemarie averted her gaze to her bare feet. "Fine."

"We'll have to move, too. We'll live in a bigger home so you'll never feel closed in. I've been offered a really nice one in the town square."

"Fine." Her lower lip jutted out.

Lamarque was not satisfied with her answers, but he knew that he was doing the best for her. "Since that's settled, good night, Annemarie. Tomorrow, we will be moving into our new home." He pressed his lips to her forehead and sent her back to bed.

* * *

The following night, five young boys navigated the streets in search of the Lamarques.

"She lives this way," Rene said in a hushed voice. "But you have to be careful. General Lamarque's mean when it's nighttime."

"Jean Lamarque?" Etienne snorted. "There's no way that he's mean. He's 'the people's man'."

Jehan nodded. "Etienne is right. He can't be mean."

"What, the people's man can't get grumpy once in a while?" Marius scoffed in disbelief.

"Be quiet, Marius," Etienne snapped.

The house at fifty-five rue Plumet was quiet. All of the lights were out, but that was to be expected at the late time. The boys reached the gate and Rene expectantly called, "Annemarie!"

There was no response.

* * *

In a larger estate house in the town square, Annemarie Lamarque couldn't sleep. She snuggled her puppy close to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. She already missed the butterfly garden and her nature-themed bedroom. She hated it in her new home. To make matters worse, there were vertical iron bars on her window to prevent people from getting in. Her bedroom was too big and therefore gloomy because she did not have enough toys to take up the extra space yet. Also, she was sure that she'd never see Rene or his friends ever again. She clutched the cockade they had gifted her in her palm and sobbed.

In between the bars on the window, the silver moonlight illuminated the miserable little girl on the floor, just like it had months before.

* * *

**A/N: I hope that everyone is enjoying the rewrite. Please keep in mind that reviews keep me from forgetting about this story :)**


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

1828

In time, all memories of Annemarie's past life were forgotten. No longer did she wake Lamarque up with whimpers and pleas for forgiveness, nor did she shield her face whenever she was reprimanded. Thenardier was just a name shoved deep into the recesses of their minds, not to be retrieved and analyzed ever again.

However, one name in that Christmas Eve ordeal popped up far too often for Lamarque's liking: Liesel Bellamy. What had happened to the young mother that had caused her to resort to a life of prostitution and abuse on the streets? Why had she given Annemarie to those particular innkeepers, out of all of the working folk in Montfermeil? What had become of Annemarie's biological father?

Those questions boggled his mind, but he forced himself to focus on more important thoughts, such as Annemarie's fourteenth birthday. She had been in his care for a little more than four years, and in that time she had transformed from the shivering and bruised young girl in the wood into a young lady whose interests lay in sewing, caring for Evie, and reading. She was careful to enunciate her words, use her manners, and write as neatly as possible with few spelling errors. However, she remained frightfully thin, and no amount of patisserie treats that he brought home could change that.

After they had moved into their new home, Lamarque had quickly looked into hiring a man to watch over her during the day. After meeting several candidates, he finally chose one who would also double as her tutor. The forty-year-old man in question was named Percival Scott, and he was a widower who had recently lost his job working as a translator in a bookshop. A younger man had taken it from right under his nose, and Percival would have surely starved to death if Lamarque had not hired him.

Percival began work a week after they had moved into their grandiose estate near the square. Annemarie was more than happy to have him take care of her, but she longed to actually interact with someone her age, and was often caught looking out of her barred bedroom window into the bustling square below.

Two nights before her fourteenth birthday, Annemarie had requested one thing only from her Papa.

"I would like to go to the Luxembourg gardens," she had informed him over supper. She had heard of the beauty of the gardens from Percival, and she longed to see it by herself. She would not mind the fresh air, either, as she had been allowed out only in the backyard for the past few years.

"Absolutely not," Lamarque replied. "I cannot accompany you, and you will not go alone."

"Percival could come with me," Annemarie said. "An inspector could come with me! It does not matter, Papa. As long as I see the gardens once in my life, I will be content."

Lamarque sighed. "Percival _and_ an inspector will accompany you," he finally said, "and you will return before supper. You will not stop for lunch. You will not go shopping. You will walk through the gardens, and _that's all_."

"Yes, Papa," she said eagerly.

While Annemarie prepared for her first walk in the famed Luxembourg gardens, Lamarque worried over her present. She was easy to please and never asked for much before, but now she was growing older. She would want to wear heeled shoes or powder her face like the grisettes she would observe through the window. It terrified him that she had grown up so quickly, but there was naught to be done of the situation but to embrace it.

So, on the morning of the thirty-first of May, Annemarie woke to find a medium-sized package on the foot of her bed. Inside the brightly wrapped box was a long hooded cloak. It came down to her ankles and was a deep, dark, beautiful red.

"Thank you, Papa!" Annemarie said, twirling in her new cloak. "I shall wear it to the gardens today."

Lamarque nodded solemnly, for he knew that he would protest against it if he spoke. Percival popped his head into the room and greeted her warmly.

"Are you excited for your first trip to the gardens, Annemarie?" he asked.

"Yes, Percival." Annemarie turned to Lamarque. "Is the inspector here yet?"

"He will be here by the time you have finished breakfast," Lamarque replied. "He will remain by your side for the duration of your trip. Be kind to him, for he is taking time off from his duties to accompany you."

Annemarie nodded quickly. "Yes, Papa."

After her father and Percival had left her room, Annemarie put her favorite dress on and combed her hair. Once her cloak was on, she felt ready to begin her day. There was no need for her to put on usual accessories - a small necklace with a heart pendant and a silver ring - as she felt like the color of her cloak would speak for itself.

But as she passed by her small vanity, she remembered something, and she knelt down to pull open the bottom drawer on the left side of the table. Inside of that drawer was a paper bag, and she shoved her hand into its depths in order to retrieve what she had been keeping in it for years.

Once she had it on her palm, she closed the drawer and stood up to look at herself in the vanity's mirror. As she peered at her reflection, she used her right hand to affix the tricolor cockade above her left breast.

Fully satisfied with her appearance, she headed down to breakfast.

* * *

Lamarque was set to accompany a young inspector-in-training to the worst part of the slums of Saint-Michel as part of training him for patrols. However, halfway through their trip, they came across what looked to be an impromptu rally held in front of a justice building. Four infuriated young men were standing halfway up the stone steps. Below them, chanting and throwing fists in the air, were dozens of poorly dressed and clearly impoverished citizens.

Inspector Saccharine jumped off of his horse and made to remove his gun from his belt. However, Lamarque stopped him with a curt shake of the head, and stepped closer to the throng. The boy standing a step higher than the rest waved a fistful of papers in the air, but what he said went unheard by Lamarque, as the words flung out by the grisettes and dandies drowned him out.

"Death to the King!"

"Liberty for France!"

"Equality or death!"

Inspector Saccharine stood beside his horse, watching the rally with narrowed eyes. If something were to happen to General Lamarque, he would resort to pulling out his gun and firing a few warning shots into the air above the crowd. His fingers twitched as he saw a young street urchin who could not be any older than seven bump into Lamarque and stealthily slip his hand into the pocket of his coat.

But, to Saccharine's surprise, Lamarque apprehended the boy and quietly handed off a few francs instead of chastising him. The boy dashed off and slipped into the alleyway behind the justice building, but not before looking up at the men speaking and grinning boyishly. One of the men, Saccharine noticed, returned the smile.

Once Lamarque had reached the front of the crowd, he called out to the college-aged men speaking above him, "Excuse me, gentlemen. What is the pressing issue here?"

The ringleader appeared to be speechless at the appearance of the renowned General Lamarque. For the first time, he stuttered.

"G-General Lamarque," he said, trying - and failing - to keep his voice steady while speaking to a man he admired deeply, "a man has been unfairly executed this morning."

"What has the man done that has been seen as unlawful?" Lamarque asked.

The boy who smiled at the street urchin piped up. "He was given five francs more than he should have when he was given his wages and did not report it before his foreman found out. It was not his fault, Monsieur Lamarque, and now he leaves behind a wife and three children."

General Lamarque glanced back at Inspector Saccharine before returning his attention back to the young men. "May I address them?"

"Yes, of course, General Lamarque." The ringleader scrambled to stand a few steps lower while General Lamarque ascended the stairs. Once he was at a high enough position, he turned to look at the gathering.

The amount of people who had surrounded the steps had somehow tripled since he had first arrived. But he was not nervous. Instead, the stares he received made him feel powerful.

"I do not know for certain the details behind the execution that was performed this morning," Lamarque said loudly, "but if the people of Saint-Michel have shown up before this particular building to protest against a great injustice, I know that something unlawful has occurred. I will look into this matter personally and provide a suitable resolution for the parties involved. This injustice, however small it may seem compared to others, will not be swept under the rug in favor of those larger issues. Every issue and every person matters."

He nodded curtly at the ringleader, who ascended the steps two at a time but stopped two steps below Lamarque. Once the boy was positioned to face the crowd again, he yelled out with a fist thrust high in the air, "Liberty, equality, fraternity!"

"Or death!" the crowd shouted back.

* * *

Inspector Javert had every right to be annoyed. The night before, he had received a tip from one of Paris' most trustworthy sources that the ex-jailer he was hunting, Jean Valjean, was working as a ship repairman, but he was unable to confirm the rumor immediately. Instead, he stood directly beside General Lamarque's adopted daughter, watching with a curled nose as she inspected every red rose she came across.

"They all smell different, you see," she explained when he had frustratedly asked her why she was taking so long at one particular spot. "They all have their own scent. I can pick up the differences."

Inspector Javert could only grunt in annoyance as the fourteen-year-old took her sweet time. Truthfully, he had no idea why he had gone along with Annemarie Lamarque and her tutor. Percival Scott was perfectly capable of warding off anyone who was interesting in taking a closer look at her, and her cloak made her practically invisible in the distance, as she barely moved a foot over in thirteen minutes.

He sniffed the air and was relieved to pick up the scent of a vendor's cart. Fresh bread would made the experience less tedious, he decided, and he excused himself momentarily from the duo to purchase a loaf.

Once the inspector was out of earshot, Percival leaned towards the ducked head of the young girl and said, "Are you having fun?"

"Yes, Percival." She smiled and wandered over to the tulips. Percival moved to follow her, but only after a minute, as he too found himself bored to death. As a young man he had enjoyed the gardens, but now they were nothing more than an attraction he would take visiting relatives for a picnic in.

Annemarie leaned down to inspect a bright yellow tulip. She was too enraptured in memorizing the texture of the petals to notice the young girl approaching her until the girl had plucked the flower out of her hand.

"I love tulips," the girl said. Her dark blonde hair fell in wild curls down her back, and her deep blue dress was slightly dirtied around the hem. "What's your favorite flower?"

Startled by the sudden appearance, Annemarie turned to look at Percival. However, he was distracted by the sound of a bird flying overhead, and she found herself to deal with the girl herself.

"Roses," Annemarie replied. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen," the girl said. "My name is Catherine. My brother and I used to come to the gardens quite a bit, but I've never seen you here before. Who are you?"

Annemarie opened her mouth to answer, but Inspector Javert approached the pair then, his eyebrows knit together sternly. The loaf of bread he had in his hands was half eaten, but he wielded it as though it were a sword.

"What did your father say about interacting with strangers?" he said. "Come along now. If you are finished looking through the gardens, we will head home."

Annemarie smiled apologetically at Catherine as she skipped to follow after Inspector Javert. Percival quickened his pace to catch up to them, stuttering apologies to the annoyed inspector.

* * *

"Happy birthday, dear Annemarie, happy birthday to you!"

Annemarie grinned widely as Percival and Lamarque presented her with her birthday cake. The round vanilla cake was bordered with a "fence" of finger-shaped biscuits, and a thick layer of chocolate frosting was spread over the whole dessert with great care. Sugared flowers were sprinkled within the biscuit border, giving the cake an appearance of a very scrumptious garden.

"It's beautiful, Papa. Thank you!" Annemarie grinned and hugged her father's side. Evie jumped onto the chair beside her and barked at the cake, but was grabbed before he could devour it by Percival.

"Happy birthday, my angel," Lamarque said warmly. "May you forever be so sweet and loving."

Inspector Javert rolled his eyes upon hearing Lamarque's words, but accepted a slice of the edible garden with a curt nod. He had not told Lamarque of Annemarie's brief interaction with the girl at the Luxembourg, as it had been too short for any important information to have been passed between them, and he knew that her tutor was too embarrassed to breathe a word of his negligence. After all, _he_ was supposed to be taking care of her, too.

Also, the young Lamarque had done no real wrong in the situation. The girl had approached _her,_ and Annemarie had not yet been taught how to act standoffish to ward people away.

Lamarque smiled gratefully at the inspector. "You are free to leave, Javert. Thank you for accompanying Annemarie to the gardens today. I know that you have had to sacrifice a hard day's work."

Javert nodded and tipped his hat to the young girl. "I will see you again, Mademoiselle Lamarque," he said, surprisingly feeling a fondness for the young girl.

"Will you?" she said, sounding surprised. She had thought that her garden walk was only a rare occasion.

Javert nodded. "Who else will be accompanying you to the gardens every Friday, Mademoiselle?"

Annemarie gasped at his words and looked towards her father. "What?"

Lamarque nodded. "Every Friday, Inspector Javert and Percival will accompany you to one of three pre-selected locations for no more than three hours. You have shown that you crave to be outside of the estate, but I cannot simply grant you the freedom right away. This is my second gift to you, sweet girl, as I know that this is what you have wanted for quite some time."

"Thank you, Papa." Annemarie embraced him again. "Where will I be able to go?"

Lamarque responded, "The Luxembourg gardens, the book shop, and the patisserie near the house. Those places, and those places _only_. You will not be allowed to go anywhere else. If they find you wandering off, there will be consequences. Am I understood?"

Annemarie nodded fervently. Already she was planning for a trip to the bookshop the following Friday. "Yes, Papa." She reached over and took her dog from Percival's grasp. "Did you hear that, Evie? I get to go outside more often!"

Lamarque sighed heavily as he watched his daughter speak excitedly to her pet. "They grow up so fast," he remarked to Percival.

"I know," he said glumly. "But freedom will be good for her."

"I can only hope so," Lamarque murmured.

* * *

That same evening, Catherine and her older brother met up for dinner in a small restaurant near the town square. It was the same routine they had established during one of her visits to him: he would not mention what he had been up to, and she would not mention their family.

Over their plates of a tomato-heavy pasta dish, her older brother inquired, "How was your walk through the Luxembourg? Same as always?"

Catherine shrugged. "I met someone."

"Oh, and what would Henri think?" he teased.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "It was a _girl_."

"Does that matter?" He chuckled before adding, "Did you make a new friend, then?"

Catherine stared at her nearly empty plate. "She would have been," she said quietly, "if that mean old Inspector Javert had not whisked her away. I didn't even catch her name."

"Huh." Her older brother's eyebrows drew together. "I didn't know Javert had a daughter."

"He doesn't," Catherine said. "He said something about her father. She wasn't supposed to be talking to me, so he took her away." She pushed the plate away from her and took a last gulp of her drink. "I am full. Let's go home, Etienne."

Etienne snorted. "Home?"

"You know what I mean." She fixed her gaze on him finally. "Mama misses you, you know."

"I know." He ground his teeth together. "And dear old father? How does he feel?"

Catherine said nothing.

"Exactly," Etienne said tersely. He made to retrieve his lucky wine red jacket from the back of his chair. "I will arrange for a fiacre to return you home, but I have business to attend to." His expression softened slightly as he added, "It was nice to meet up with you again, little sister. I will see you again next Friday. I hope that you and Henri are happy together."

"We are," Catherine insisted. "I think he will propose soon."

As her older brother paid for their meals, she couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the young girl she'd seen by the tulips. If Inspector Javert wasn't her father, who was? Clearly the man who had run after them was not her father, as there was absolutely no resemblance, and he didn't act particularly paternal towards the girl.

Forget about the father. Who was the girl?


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

1830

"Before I conclude, I would like to address one final rumor that has spread like wildfire among the citizens of Paris," General Lamarque said, projecting loudly enough so that all in the town square could hear him. "There has been talk of recruitment for the formation of a rebellious group."

Inspectors Javert, Saccharine, Christoph, and Smythe eyed the enraptured crowd for any signs of trouble. The last time General Lamarque spoke before a crowd, a fight had broken out in the back, resulting in the arrival of the quartet of inspectors to break up the madness before it spread.

They knew, however, that this speech would not in any way instigate a riot. Lamarque was asked to deliver a speech to the people of Paris deterring them from forming such groups, and if the rabblerousers knew what was good for them, they could not make a single sound of protest against Lamarque's words. After all, the people's man's words were highly praised among the citizens.

General Lamarque surprised them by adding, "While I find the public creation of a rebellious group against the King unwise, I do not find it unlawful."

The citizens murmured and looked at each other in confusion.

"Rather, it is a sign that our world must change, whether the King likes it or not. If these revolutionaries choose to form a civilized group and fight in order to be heard, then so be it." General Lamarque's gaze swept over every citizen's face standing near his makeshift stage before continuing. "The people have been suffering from poverty, illness, and starvation. It does not go unnoticed by the wealthy and royal. It goes ignored, but not unseen, and I believe that it is high time to change that."

His words were met with round of applause.

* * *

She rolled her eyes as the so-called "people's man" concluded his speech with the national motto of France. She did not disagree with his words, but found them unfounded; how would a rich man like General Lamarque understand the impoverished? She could not believe him for the life of her.

She had heard the leader of the forming revolutionary group speak, and he spoke similarly; he was all pretty words strung together into sentences that made him sound like he knew what it was like to always have an achingly empty feeling in his stomach, when in actuality he had never gone hungry a single night in his life.

With that thought, Eponine Thenardier reached out and swiped a few francs from the pocket of an unsuspecting citizen, who was repeating the motto with the crowd. She scurried away before he could notice, using her years of experience and tiny size to her advantage. Once she was safe and away from the inspectors skulking near the back of the crowd, she counted her money.

Four francs. Nine francs in total was all she had gotten that day, and she still had to meet Gavroche at his elephant statue to give him enough money for supper _and_ buy herself a drink at the Musain. Her father would have to make do with six francs.

Although she found General Lamarque to be a poor spokesperson for the people of Paris, she couldn't help but look enviously at his enormous house near the square. It was like a castle in one of the fantasy books she'd stolen from the bookshop her unrequited love worked at. There was no doubt in her mind that it was filled with beautiful but useless trinkets, pictures of the past-generation Lamarques, and servants willing to do whatever he thought up.

The iron-wrought gates surrounding his estate towered over Eponine, but she knew that she could climb over with little difficulty. It was easy for her to determine which places she could rob; years of thievery and crime had done that to her.

However, she would never rob General Lamarque. He may have a large estate bursting with trinkets that would pay for a week's worth of bread, but he didn't have a family, and that fact alone deterred her from looting his home.

Why would an old man like General Lamarque, the proclaimed voice of the people, purchase a large house with gates at least ten feet tall? He had no enemies - as far as Eponine knew, anyway - and no family to care for, so why did he own this particular place?

Eponine peered up at the three windows facing the town square. The inside of his home was hidden away by thick tricolor curtains. The topmost window, however, had a set of bars mounted over the glass. As she watched, the curtain at thatwindow opened, and a small face appeared for a brief moment.

Eponine was taken aback when she saw that the face was peering dowAnd I'm fine with getting somethingn at her with curious eyes. She stumbled backwards and bumped into a grisette.

"Why, I never-!" The grisette scowled at her. "Filthy child of the street."

Eponine glared at the departing lady before turning back to the house. The curtains were drawn again. She glanced back at the square and noticed that Lamarque was speaking to the inspectors.

If Lamarque was there, who was in his house?

* * *

The cafe Musain had never been more lively. Overworked grisettes, humble dandies, and occasional bourgeoisie spoke heatedly of Lamarque's latest speech over bottles of wine that the owner, a beautiful woman named Musichetta Galle, fetched from the downstairs cellar. Although the first floor was always packed through the weekends, Musichetta never allowed people to venture to the cafe's second floor. The cafe's opening times were always strange, too; two years prior, when Musichetta first inherited the cafe from her sickly father, the opening time had changed from nine in the morning to six in the evening. The change had caused the Musain to initially lose a great deal of money, but Musichetta seemed not to care.

Since four in the afternoon, the second floor of the Musain was also bustling. The group just up the stairs consisted of young men who were fresh out of their university classes or jobs, and they were about to hold a very important meeting. Most of the men had known each other beforehand, but several were newcomers who drifted off to the side with their pints while the others joked and waited for the meeting to start.

However, there was one thing that was stopping them from beginning.

"I assure you, Enjolras," Courfeyrac assured the frustrated leader. "Marius will be here soon. He's only ever tardy for good reason."

Enjolras sighed heavily. "Fifteen minutes, Charles," he said, addressing his friend by his first name for the first time in years. "If he is not here by then I will have no choice but to begin in his absence."

Courfeyrac nodded. "Did you hear General Lamarque's speech this morning?" he asked out of distraction.

"Indeed." Enjolras glanced at the pamphlet he'd gotten printed at a shop near Montmartre that supported the cause. "Jean Lamarque had proven to be our greatest supporter, as well as the only government official who will heed to the needy."

"Precisely," Gregoire Combeferre, Enjolras' childhood friend, added from his seat across the table. "With his backing, we might see a new France sooner than we anticipated."

Enjolras nodded. "But that's beside the point, Courfeyrac. Fourteen minutes."

* * *

It was nearing six o'clock, and Marius Pontmercy was becoming more flustered with each passing second. In any moment, the meeting that Courfeyrac had invited him to would start, and he would miss it in favor of working on his translations. The owner of the book shop he'd been employed in two months prior was running late coming back from the market, and Marius had been left to watch over the shop in the meanwhile. He swallowed hard and pretended that he had not been eyeing the clock when two old men and a young girl walked into the shop.

"I will be right here if you need me, Annemarie," Percival said, sitting down on the shop's comfiest armchair.

The young girl nodded. "Javert, would you care to help me find a book?"

Marius looked up at the name of the local inspector. It _was_ the usually intimidating man in his imposing blue uniform, but he looked relaxed rather than stern. If Marius was not seeing it right before him, he would not believe that the ruthless Inspector Javert could possibly smile, but that was precisely what he was doing.

"I might have a few recommendations," Javert said, nodding at Annemarie. He led her to a shelf and skimmed the titles until he found the novels he had thought she would like.

"Thank you," Annemarie said, turning the books in her hands around to inspect them. She glanced up and smiled kindly at Marius, whose gaze flittered away from her just as quickly as it had landed.

The arrival of the owner gave Marius the opportunity to leave. His disgruntled boss grumbled something about the baker's incompetence as he handed Marius his wages, and then the university student was off.

Not even a minute after the door closed behind Marius, it opened again. A young lady with plaited blonde hair nervously stepped inside the shop. She made a beeline for the first shelf she saw, hoping that it contained religious works.

Just as the girl realized that she was standing before the poetry, a voice from behind startled her. "What are you looking for?"

* * *

Ever since Lamarque had made the arrangement for her to leave the estate every Friday, he had slowly warmed up to the young girl. He had even procured a beautiful butterfly painting for her sixteenth birthday, which he had bought during one of his many excursions to the more obscure towns. She had grown up before his eyes from a girl who spoke nonsense about flowers to a young lady who was always interested in hearing about his day. He only ever saw her twice a week at the most, but she never failed to listen to his tales of previous arrests. Annemarie was notably interested in his story of the prisoner 24601, especially because Javert was still in hot pursuit of the man.

Still, Javert was quite fond of Lamarque's adopted daughter. He always brought her a treat from her favourite patisserie before taking her out with her tutor, and he was more lenient towards her constant cravings for freedom and independence.

Upon the other young lady's entrance into the shop, Annemarie saw an opportunity and took it. With one imploring look to her guardians, she went to the girl and struck up a conversation. Javert could only watch in amusement as Annemarie chatted animatedly with the reluctant blonde.

"I'm looking for a copy of the Bible," the blonde lady said. "My Papa's copy has been damaged by a candle."

Annemarie grinned. "I know where you could get one," she said proudly, leading the blonde to a shelf all the way across the shop. "I've been here so many times, I can remember where everything is."

The blonde sighed dreamily. "I wish I had that sort of freedom."

Annemarie laughed. "I hardly call my situation 'freedom'. _My_ Papa only allows me out on Fridays, and only for three hours." She pulled a copy of the scripture off of the shelf and handed it over.

The blonde turned the book around in her hand. "The only reason I was allowed out today was because my Papa could not stop me. He's fallen ill, and I've just been grocery shopping for him." She gestured to the bags she'd left by the door.

Annemarie nodded empathetically. "My name is Annemarie."

The blonde seemed unsure for a moment, but eventually replied, "And I'm Cosette. It is nice to finally meet someone who understands."

"We could meet again," Annemarie said as Cosette paid. "I could come here again next Friday."

Cosette frowned. "I do not know if my Papa would allow me to leave again."

"Surely you must purchase groceries again by then," Annemarie said. "Judging by your purchases, you will have enough to last a week, which will give you an excuse to return."

Cosette thought hard for a moment. "Perhaps," she said slowly, "I could persuade him to come with me if he feels better, and I could convince him to let us stop by here for a minute. If he does not feel better by then, I will come anyway."

Annemarie's smile widened. "That sounds good, Cosette. My father doesn't let me out until after supper, so I could come by around six o'clock. Would that be all right with you?"

Cosette beamed at the prospect of a friend, even though it meant disobeying her father's wishes. She had not a single friend in her entire life, and she was sure that her father would not mind if she went about it correctly.

"Yes, Annemarie," she said. "We shall see each other soon." And with that, Cosette Fauchelevent exited the shop.

After Cosette had disappeared from view, Annemarie turned excitedly to her guardians. "Did you hear that? I have a friend!"

Percival stood. "Perhaps it is time for us to purchase your books and leave," he said seriously.

Javert walked over to the pair. "We could stop by the patisserie on the way back," he said.

Once the books were paid for, and Annemarie was walking ahead of the two, Javert rounded on Percival.

"She is only trying to make friends," Javert said softly, so as to not alert the young girl that they were speaking of her. "You need not be so strict."

Percival scoffed. "You're one to talk of strictness. Her father is trying to keep her away from the impurity of the world. She is not supposed to be 'making friends' with every child she sees. Also, did you see the way the man working there leered at her? Sprinted out like a wild animal once the owner returned, too. I'm not even sure if he was really employed there. I'm certain that Jean will not be pleased if he hears of what has happened tonight. Perhaps we should not allow her to go to the book shop next Friday."

"They are two little girls wanting to be friends," Javert said. "It's not a crime, Percival. _I_ would know if it were."

"Little girls?" Percival snorted. "She is sixteen! She will soon be wanting a young man's attention. She will want a suitor eventually, and then what?"

"That is what happens with all girls," Javert responded, "and General Lamarque must be aware of that already. In fact, he must have a list of young men he considers worthy enough for her."

Percival ground his teeth together. "He's trying to shield her away from the impurities of the world. He told me so when he employed me that he would not allow her to associate with people he didn't approve of, but he would never compile a _list_ of young men to have her hand. I daresay that he is detaining her to a life not dissimilar to a nun's. Sometimes I disagree with the arrangement she has been given, but unlike you I will not allow her to breach her father's rules. She will not be going to that book shop on Friday, and that's final."

"You have no power to ban her from that shop," Inspector Javert said. "If Lamarque asks, she behaved just as well as we expected with no problems. If I hear that you have said otherwise, there will be consequences. I'm sure you've heard what I'm capable of, Monsieur Scott."

* * *

One minute before Enjolras was due to initiate the first meeting, Marius ran up the stairs and promptly collapsed into a chair. Enjolras eyed the panting new arrival before turning to give Courfeyrac a displeased look. Courfeyrac shrugged and moved to sit next to his friend.

Once the group had quieted down, Enjolras used his chair to hoist himself onto the table.

"Welcome," he stated, "to the first meeting of _Les Amis de l'ABC_."


End file.
